Til Human Voices Wake Us And We Drown
by MadhouseMaddi
Summary: In which Arthur can't take it anymore (otherwise known as the time I accidentally wrote smut, my apologies).


_"And indeed there will be time... time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea." -The love song of J Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot._

* * *

At times when Merlin removes his scarf or bends to refill Arthur's goblet and his tunic slips, Arthur faces collarbones, sharp but delicate, ethereal like a crystal necklace begotten of divine starlight, and the prince yearns to trace promises into the pale skin of his servant's neck, whisper them along his throat and speak them into his open mouth; he craves the playful defiance of Merlin's eyes boring into his own, reading him like no one else cares to, blinding him and drowning him in pools of silvery mercury, ethics be damned and duty be forgotten. Surely Merlin and his carefree ways are his only source of joy in this life.

And, Merlin gazes so intently sometimes that Arthur's dinner catches in his throat, nerves buzzing like the raucous voices in the palace during festivals, and all he desires is confirmation that Merlin's feelings are kin to his own, that the hands dressing him linger a fraction of a moment to long consciously, gentle and warm like windless rain on his shoulders, or that the tireless loyalty stems from something more than respectful servitude.

If Merlin can read his mind, now is the time for him to listen as every pore of Arthur's skin screams. Can Merlin sense the desperation circulating in the stuffy air of Arthur's chambers, the desire of his master to gather him up in his arms and let all perils fall on him instead? In a treasury, Merlin's mind is a gem among common currency, and Arthur has always seen it but it was never his place to praise a servant.

Praise him Arthur does, if only in the safety of his mind. Arthur thinks it's hilarious that Merlin believes him clueless to his sorcery, but he knows Merlin has saved his life countless times and he's endlessly grateful. He replays memories of Merlin's retorts and eye rolls like a dragon admires its hoard, ordering him about only to keep up pretense. Arthur would give Merlin the world if he asked, because Merlin never asks for anything.

So, when the longing overpowers his restraint, just after the clock strikes twelve and the bells echo though his chambers, Arthur slips out of bed and shuffles over to Merlin, who's asleep in the chair by the fire. Arthur had dismissed him hours before; was he keeping watch, perhaps? Its then that Arthur knows, suddenly sure of what he's about to do. He's never put much stock in destiny, but he sees it now like they are two sides of the same coin, like the sun and the moon.

And when Merlin stirs at his close presence, stormy eyes flicking open, Arthur pins him to the spot with a chaste kiss to those pink lips, and then suddenly Merlin's kissing him back, like Arthur is oxygen and Merlin needs him like a fire; Arthur inhales every sigh, every moan, lets it burn away his lungs and his doubts. There is something unspoken between them as Merlin stands and weaves their fingers together, and tenderness rips through Arthur's heart.

"Is this okay?" he asks, gazing fondly at Merlin's wide, gleeful smile.

"More than okay. It's brilliant." And finally, finally, Arthur strips him down, strips both of them down, and carries Merlin bridal style to the bed, laying him gently on the sheets before sliding over him, Merlin lacing his fingers into a crown in Arthur's hair.

"Took you long enough," Merlin chokes out, both purity and lust in his eyes. "You were so oblivious."

"Shut up and let me love you," Arthur growls, nipping at Merlin's bottom lip.

And love him he does, brushing every inch with his fingers, grinding down with his hips and sucking bruises into the porcelain skin while Merlin arches and whines beneath him.

"Gonna make you feel so good, love," Arthur promises. "Never going to let anyone hurt you. You're mine, no one's gonna touch you."

"Yours," Merlin whines, eyes screwed shut as Arthur fingers him. "Goddammit, can't you just fuck me already?"

Arthur nearly laughs, but instead peppers Merlin's face with little kisses, little I love you's, lining himself up and carefully pushing in, and it's tighter than he ever imagined. Scratching at Arthur's shoulders hard enough to draw blood, Merlin squeaks in pain, and Arthur stops abruptly.

"Yeah, just. Um-" Sweat beads at his hairline as Merlin tries to adjust.

Arthur frowns. "Merlin, I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine. Slowly," he pants. But when Merlin nearly shoves his hand in his mouth to keep from screaming, Arthur pulls out completely, swearing.

"I'm s-sorry," the smaller boy says, rolling over and burying is face in the feather mattress.

"It's not your fault, Merlin. Look at me," Arthur says urgently, taking Merlin's face in his hands as he rolls over. He could tell Merlin was trying not to cry. "Talk to me."

"You know I'd do anything for you, right Arthur?"

"Yes, I do." The room is solemn as a morgue, but not as hopeless.

"Usually I'm such a careless idiot, but sometimes I get worked up and anxious. I-it hurt, but I wanted to take it. I'm not weak."

"Merlin, were you afraid of me? Did I just-"

Scooting closer to his lover, Merlin cuts him off with a desperate kiss. "God, no, you didn't violate me. I wanted it, I really wanted it, but I just have to ask, is this a one-time thing? Because Arthur I've been used before and I can't take that again. Especially from someone I-"Merlin blushes furiously and shuts up.

Arthur prods him in the side. "From someone I what? Go on, don't leave me hanging." Merlin blinks up at him with stars in his eyes and whispers unintelligibly under his breath.

"What? I can't hear you."

"I said, don't poke me, I'm ticklish," Merlin lies, matter of factly. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

"Oh _really_? In that case." Arthur pins Merlin to the bed and proceeds to tickle him senseless. Giggling and sputtering for breath, Merlin shoves him off and returns the favor, tickling him until his sides almost burst and they are tangled like mummies in the cotton sheets. They flop around on the mattress, stifling bubbly laughter and trying not to wake up the rest of the palace. Eventually Merlin ends up the big spoon, running his long fingers through Arthur's hair.

"What were you going to say earlier," Arthur mutters.

"Can't you just let it go?"

"_Mer_-lin. I'm not going to leave you. You don't need to worry about that. Now tell me."

"I wouldn't be able to cope if someone I love uses me, and then leaves."

_Oh_.

For the second time that night, everything falls into place. However, Arthur is too tired to feel anything but pure awe and compassion, the weight of meaning like a giant standing on his chest. He rolls over and wraps Merlin up in his arms.

"I love you too, you idiot. Now go to sleep. I'll keep you safe."

"I think keeping you safe is my job," Merlin says sleepily, nuzzling up under Arthur's chin.

"Shut up, Merlin, I was trying to be romantic."

"The key word being _trying_."

"I swear to God, Merlin-"

"Goodnight sire."

"Goodnight, love."


End file.
